I'm running through a dense, dense jungle. M14 battle rifle in hand, bayonet attached and all. Gunfire POPs and WHIZZes and THWAPs all around me, and it's coming from all over the place, from the trees, bushes, the ground too. I just run and run making my way to a Huey helicopter, hoping, PRAYING that it extracts me. The door gunner, manning the M2 Browning .50 caliber machine gun, is shooting wildly into the jungle and right before I'm in and at the footsteps of the Huey, the door gunner gets hit, once. Perfectly into his temple. A crater shows, blood splatters onto the walls of the helicopter, blood oozes onto him. I stop. Watch. And look. And then, crisply and clearly. I hear a TFFF, a gunshot. But before I can even comprehend it, I fall to the floor. Dead.
I wake up from my bed, scared and sweating. I just had a dream, a nightmare honestly. Everyone's got one thing in their mind, heart, and words. Vietnam. The war's been raging on for 2 years now, and there's no end in sight. Why am I saying all this? Because it's the dreams. Everyone, no matter the person, has had THE dreams. I look around my room, it's pristine, clean, sanitized, sterile, it smells like lavender. Some may say that my room even looks and smells girly by the way it's all clean and smells pretty. But I like it. Today is the last day of my Senior Year of High School. I look at my school ID in the morning, one last time. CARLOS, SEBASTIAN is printed on it in bold, big letters. My long, hippie-esque, brown and black hair flowing over my almost circular head. My brown ID eyes look into my own real eyes. My thin lips and medium-sized nose sit there, doing nothing important. I go downstairs, "VAS A COMER?", 'Are you going to eat?',my mom asks, "Estoy bien, ma.", 'I'm okay, ma', I leave, making sure I have my keys, wallet, and ID on me as I make my way to my car.
Me and some friends made a plan to meet up after school, when I get home I put my stuff up and start to leave "Adonde vas?", 'Where are you going', my mom shoots at me right before I open the door. "Con unos amigos, no te preocupes", 'With some friends, don't worry', I respond. "Necesitas regresar por las 10.", 'You need to come back by 10.', my mom says. "Ya se, ma, te amo.",'I know, ma, I love you.', I respond.
[CHAPTER 1, END]
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When We're All Used Up
Historical FictionSebastian Carlos is a very smart kid, he is set to receive a scholarship to the prestigious University of Texas at Austin. But unexpectedly, he gets drafted into the Vietnam War. And only one thing is for sure - he's not leaving the same as he came.
